


holy cross, paint me golden

by cylencia



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: (don't worry he'll get there), Banter, Bonding(...ish), Gen, Hinata Shouyou is Sunshine, Late Night Conversations, Mentioned Kageyama Tobio, Mentioned Ushijima Wakatoshi, Oikawa Tooru Has Some Shit to Work Through
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:00:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28198056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cylencia/pseuds/cylencia
Summary: Late-night practice sessions, very inconveniently timed bouts of rains, and other unconventional things that drive people together.Alternatively—what happens when the king runs late one night and collides with the sun itself.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou & Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 7
Kudos: 42
Collections: Oikawa Exchange Winter 2020





	holy cross, paint me golden

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cirriform](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cirriform/gifts).



> Set in between Seijoh1 and Seijoh2. I love Oihina _so much _, these two should've had more interactions in canon ;___; Thank you so much for the wonderful prompt, I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!__

“One hour, you hear me?”

“Yeah, yeah, I heard you, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa waves a hand dismissively, picking up another ball from the basket. “I’ll be done practising in sixty minutes on the dot, promise.”

Iwaizumi lets out a long-suffering sigh. “If you’re not done by then, I swear to god, I will come back and physically drag your ass back home.”

“Roger.”

Iwaizumi doesn’t look convinced but he gives him one last distrustful glare before he sighs and relents. With one last stern glance, he hikes his gym bag over his shoulders and leaves the gym. 

Oikawa sighs as soon as the door slams shut. _So much for getting in some extra practice._ He knows Iwaizumi far too well to assume that he’s bluffing. If he says he’ll drag him back home by the scruff of his collar, he _will_ do it, no matter how much Oikawa kicks and screams.

He shudders at the thought, and sure enough, just over an hour later, he finds himself cleaning up and locking the gym, calling it a night. Oh, well, he thinks, there’s always tomorrow. Maybe he can lie to Iwaizumi and tell him he has some other urgent stuff to attend to—not that lying to Iwa-chan ever works, but there’s no harm in trying.

It’s late by the time he walks out of the building, hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket and bag slung carelessly over one shoulder. It's far enough into the night that barely anyone is around, though that’s fine, he thinks, he needs to clear his head anyway. 

The night air feels especially cold against the sweat drying on his skin and he shudders. Thinks about his last match, the one before that, and the one before. Thinks about the look in Kageyama Tobio’s eyes as he had looked up at Oikawa from where he had fallen to his knees on the court, helpless and defeated. Thinks about the way his own lungs had _burned_ with exhaustion, knees on the verge of giving out. Thinks about how all of that had meant absolutely _nothing_ because in the end, they had still lost to Shiratorizawa. _He_ had still lost to Ushiwaka.

His fists tighten inside his pockets of their own accord, until he sighs and loosens them again.

 _No, this won’t do._ The inter-high qualifiers are just around the corner, he can’t afford to lose his grip now, not when there’s still so much left for him to do. He won’t lose again, he _won’t,_ not to Kageyama Tobio, not to Ushijima Wakatoshi, not to _anyone_. 

A drop of water lands on his nose, then another, and another, and it’s only now that Oikawa realizes that he’s already walked almost halfway home in his daze. The clouds rumble over his head, one or two drops of rain quickly turning into a steady drizzle and Oikawa quickly darts over to the side of the street, looking for cover. It’s mostly dark around, but he can make out an overhead canopy over a closed shop front, and he scurries over quickly.

“Ouch! Hey!" Cries a voice from beside him. "You don’t have to stand _on_ me, you know! There’s plenty of space.”

Oikawa blinks in confusion, eyes straining to adjust to the darkness until they come to rest on a _startlingly_ bright mop of orange hair, starkly visible despite being barely illuminated under the shade by the reflected streetlamps.

Karasuno’s chibi-chan is glaring up at him with a disgruntled expression on his face—come to think of it, Oikawa _had_ crashed into him in his hurry to get out of the rain—one hand clutching his backpack while the other keeps his bike upright. When he registers Oikawa’s face, his eyes go comically wide.

“Th-the Grand King!”

Oikawa can’t help the amused laugh that bubbles up, despite his sour mood just a second earlier. He still doesn’t know where _that_ nickname came from but he’s sure as hell not complaining. “The one and only.” 

Shouyou stumbles a bit, clutching his bag a little tighter in nervousness. “What-what are you doing here?”

“Trust me, I’d much rather be anywhere but here,” he replies dryly, looking out towards the street in distaste where the rain was coming down in sheets by now. “But I can’t mess my hair up. Do you have _any_ idea what rainwater does to delicate tresses like mine?” 

It earns him a long, confused look from Shouyou as he tries to figure out whether he was joking or not. Oikawa lets out a laugh of amusement. 

It isn’t really about the hair, of course. His hair is already messed beyond salvation, thanks to the sweat and exhaustion of the day and the hours of extra practice and then some, but he supposes anything sounds cooler than admitting that he ran from the rain like a cat from water because the humidity aggravates the ache in his knee. (That, and he gets cold easily, but no one needs to know that either.)

So, for now, sure, Oikawa ran from the rain to protect his hair.

He gives the boy in front of him a curious once-over. “What about you? I didn’t know Karasuno held night-shifts.”

“It… doesn’t. I was just helping Sugawara-san close up the gym.” Shouyou seems to have relaxed a little, apparently having convinced himself that Oikawa wouldn’t, in all probability, feed him to the dogs the first chance he gets. He bounces a little on his heels, groaning petulantly. “And I have to go over the hill now to go home but it’s raining and I can’t see _anything_ in the rain.”

Oikawa leans sideways against the closed door of the shop, crossing his arms in front of him as he appraises the disaster of a redhead with a raised eyebrow. He had seen the myriad of emotions that had crossed his countenance in the split-second of recognition after he had registered Oikawa’s face, had seen the defensive stance of his shoulders and the way he had almost unconsciously stumbled back and made himself smaller. Understandable, really. Even if their last match hadn’t ended so disastrously for Karasuno, Oikawa tends to have that effect on people—on rivals, especially—and chibi-chan had probably lived all his life until now looking up at people bigger than him anyway, looking at humans and seeing walls instead. In a situation like this, it would be hard _not_ to cower.

And yet, Oikawa can see the way his expression is shifting, eyes bright and curious peeking out from under his damp but still somehow startlingly bright mop of hair, staring up at him in something almost akin to… awe.

There is more fascination in his gaze than fear, as if he’s looking at a wonder instead of a poorly stitched together tapestry of _‘nearly’_ and _‘maybe’_ and _‘almost good enough’_. Something stirs inside of Oikawa and he huffs quietly, averting his eyes. 

“So, tell me, chibi-chan,” he says as he shakes off some of the dampness from his hair, voice airy, nonchalant, not a treble out of place, "what are you and my precious _kouhai_ up to?”

“Oh, we’re… not exactly practising together these days,” he replies, suddenly much meeker.

“Oh? And why is that?”

He shrugs, pushing his hands into his pockets and looking down at his feet. “I guess Kageyama just doesn’t feel like it’d work.”

Oikawa blinks. “Even after the sage advice I oh-so-graciously offered him?”

That gets Shouyou’s attention, and his head snaps up. “He went to you for help?”

“Uh, yeah, he did,” he replies, as if it should be the most obvious thing in the world. “I _am_ the best setter in the prefecture, after all.”

“But he’s always been so terrified of you.”

Oikawa starts, then frowns. It isn’t that big of a surprise, really. Oikawa scares a lot of people, knowing and unknowingly. It's an advantage, a compliment even, and it isn’t like he hasn’t tried to actively scare Tobio anyway. He had always known the boy looked up to him, idolized him even. But it felt… different, somehow, to be told straight up that the genius young prodigy, Oikawa’s self-proclaimed almost, maybe, eventual downfall, was _afraid_ of him. It elicited a swell of conceit in his chest, pride and an inevitable boost to ego, and he might have laughed even, were it not for the twinge of anger and bitterness that came with it. 

He scowls to himself, because what the hell does _Kageyama fucking Tobio_ have to be afraid of? Volleyball’s golden child, genius little prodigy who has never known anything but success wherever he steps foot, what does he _know_ about being scared? It makes Oikawa furious.

But it isn’t Kageyama Tobio in front of him, he reminds himself, taking a deep breath. It’s the other one, the one who is somehow even more baffling.

“Is that so?” He finally murmurs to Shouyou’s wide-eyed, waiting expression. “Well, I _am_ a phenomenal advice giver, so if he had been listening even a little bit, things should work out for you. Not that it would make a difference, of course,” he adds, a sickly sweet smile on his face, “I’ll just grind you both into the dirt again, just like I did last time.”

He pauses then, observing him carefully and looking for a reaction, a smart quip or an indignant growl, but all Shouyou does is look back at him with a conflicted yet focused frown. “Well… while I don’t intend to go down without a fight, go down _at all_ , I can’t deny that it’s going to be a challenge. You _are_ really skilled at what you do.”

Oikawa stares at him. He’s not a stranger to praise—far from it, really—and neither does he put too much weight into what others say. But hearing _him_ say it in particular, Hinata Shouyou who’s himself a monster, for lack of a better word, who plays with Kageyama fucking Tobio of all people, hearing him admit, with no trace of insincerity, irony, or even resentment, that Oikawa is _good,_ strikes a particularly resonant chord somewhere. It’s not unpleasant, per se, but it screeches in his ears nonetheless. 

The only other rival that had dared to acknowledge him to his face was Ushiwaka, bless his denseness, and that had still somehow felt like the opposite of a compliment.

But Shouyou’s eyes are sparkling. “I would love to be able to spike a toss from you one day.”

For the second time in as many minutes, Oikawa startles again. “I—”

“Do you think we can fit some in right now? We can go back to the gym. Grand ki—Oikawa-san! Set for me!”

“Whoa, slow down there, ginger,” he laughs, and tries to ignore how it comes out a little breathless. “One thing at a time.”

Shouyou stops, then blushes, suddenly looking very sheepish as he scratches the back of his neck. “Right, sorry. I got a little carried away.”

Oikawa smiles, because he realizes it now. Realizes how insanely and hopelessly in love with volleyball this boy really is and what’s funny is that he probably doesn’t even realize it. Probably thinks everyone is as batshit crazy as he is. 

Well, lucky for him, some people are.

“I must say I’m not completely opposed to the idea,” he says, a feline grin on his face, “of setting to you, that is. Might as well see if you’re actually all that explosive up close too or whether that’s just your precious setter—”

Shouyou lets out an indignant cry, “I’m just as good up close! Even better, you’ll see!”

 _Ah,_ Oikawa thinks, _a sore spot, huh?_ Fine, then. “Easy there, carrot-top. I did say I’m not opposed to the idea,” he says, “but not today. It’s late and, you know, kind of raining in case you haven’t noticed. But hey,” he gives him a lopsided smile, hand raising up to form a peace sign, “never say never, right?”

Shouyou blinks. “Huh?”

“I mean, who knows?" Oikawa shrugs, the deceptively easy smile never leaving his face. "You _might_ get lucky and get to hit my wonderful sets someday.”

Shouyou’s face lights up at even this vague prospect, and Oikawa suddenly finds himself even more fascinated and, dare he say it, endeared. He wonders what it must be like to set to someone like him, all that weight, all that _pressure_ of playing with and trying to match up to the likes of Hinata Shouyou, to someone who leaps before he looks, leaps with his eyes closed, with such an insatiable hunger burning behind them that it leaves absolutely no room for failure on the part of either of the spiker or the setter. He isn't enough of a saint to feel sorry for Tobio but he can’t imagine it being very pleasant. 

And yet… 

It’s unlikely, he thinks, that he would ever set to Shouyou, even as practice. The shorty isn’t bad company by any means, but their schools aren’t on such amicable terms. Besides, it isn’t like Oikawa is going to be here for much longer anyway.

Still, maybe someday, somewhere far away from here, there _might_ exist a reality where Oikawa Tooru sets a ball and Hinata Shouyou is the one to spike it.

Never say never, right?

His gaze snaps back to the fiery ball of energy in front of him, currently bouncing on his heels, and he shakes his head in an unconscious attempt to clear it. “Forget about Tobio-chan, what have you been up to in the meanwhile, red? Got anything new to show for it?”

“Lots of things! Oh, I’ve learnt so much new stuff in the past few weeks,” Shouyou chirps, immediately lighting up and once again Oikawa is struck by the sheer brilliance of this boy’s existence. Something about him is so painfully vivid that it almost hurts to look at, and yet, Oikawa can’t stop looking. “I can’t wait to show you.”

Oikawa cocks an eyebrow. “Oh? And when will you be doing that?”

"In the upcoming qualifiers, of course!" He replies without missing a beat. "We’re going to win this time.”

“Is that so?” Oikawa drawls, looking at him through bored, narrowed eyes.

“Y-yeah!” Shouyou stutters, taking a step back as if suddenly registering the gravity of his own words. “We’re going to defeat everyone and g-go all the way to nationals!”

Oikawa quirks a brow, amused. All that vivacity packed into the meagre five feet and some inches of his body. What a firecracker of a partner his protégé has acquired for himself indeed. “Well, I look forward to seeing that, chibi-chan” he finally says, pushing himself off the wall he was leaning against, then smirks, “though I doubt I’ll get to, since _we’ll_ be the ones going on to nationals, after all.”

Shouyou growls, or tries to, anyway. “Just you wait and see! Me and Kageyama are—”

“Oh, would you look at that?" Oikawa interrupts airily. "The rain has stopped. You should probably get going, chibi-chan, lest his highness tears you a new one for being late to practice tomorrow.”

Shouyou looks like he wants to argue, but then seems to mentally picture Kageyama and balks, looking genuinely terrified at the prospect.

“Anyway, I have to go. Can’t miss out on that beauty sleep, after all.” Oikawa says, “See ya on the court, chibi-chan.” Hiking his gym bag higher on his shoulder, he turns to face Shouyou with a sugary smile. “If you make it that far, that is”

Shouyou nods vigorously, “we will! And we’ll go even further!”

“My, you’re _so_ positive!” Oikawa says blithely, “it’s kind of refreshing, really.” With one last callous wave of his hand, he turns around and steps out from under the shop canopy. “See ya later, short stuff.”

“Y-you will!” Shouyou calls out from behind him and without turning around, Oikawa laughs, _really_ laughs, light and free and without an underlying motive. This little firecracker of a boy really is something else, huh.

Hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket, he continues to walk, and only notices he forgot to change out of his gym shoes when they splash in some rainwater left on the street. Behind him, he’s vaguely aware of the quiet sounds of a bike as Shouyou pedals off in the opposite direction, a homebound crow flying over the hill.

_Oikawa-san! Set for me!_

Oikawa chuckles to himself quietly, shoves his hands deeper into his pockets and continues to walk. Somewhere on the other side of the world, the land of the holy cross rouses from its slumber, and waves lap at the shore of the beach as the first rays of the sun paint the sands golden.

**Author's Note:**

> ye [twitter](https://twitter.com/cylencia) // ye [tumblr](https://lawliette.tumblr.com)


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